Friday, September 27, 2013

1286

Having read, and thoroughly enjoyed, 'Curry Casadoo' written by Kamalo Deen; i jumped at the invitation, to be present at a function to meet with it's author. So yesterday morning, it was, my delight, along with a small group of readers, friends, and staff of Nalis St James, to listen to readings from this marvellous novel and converse with him.

Saturday, September 21, 2013

1282

...its comfortably warm this morning, not yet too hot, and sunny; i'm reading 'Life of Pi' by Yann Martel (a book club recommended novel - which means other persons in my book club are also reading this) i've gotten through more than half, my favourite quote so far is from [page 6]
"The reason death sticks so closely to life isn't biological necessity — it's envy. Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive love that grabs at what it can. But life leaps over oblivion lightly, losing only a thing or two of no importance, and gloom is but the passing shadow of a cloud."...so i decide to sit outside this morning, (i'm an 'empty nester' so my time structuring is very much mine) Wow! my blessed sixties; my son and daughter, out on their own; my grand daughter will be one year old next month; i'm truly and humbly thankful for today, and yesterdays.

Friday, September 13, 2013

1276

STONE PILLOWS

The dimensions in magic, intrigue the newbies at the
school. Used to being the center of attraction at fairs and bazaars, ringing a bell out there in the avenue to pay their way through an eek of mere sustenance, only to weary and move on. The stains of wind-carried offerings to remind them of their last stop. Ah but winds of change held the answer all along.

thunderstorm...
under some dreams
stone pillows
--gillena cox 2013

(last night's thunder showers proved to be the inspiration for my late response to this week's Wordle 125)

Sunday, September 01, 2013

1267

An inky sky, to sway webs, light as feathers whirling close to stars, where sparks, splintered from oiled wheels of day and night, no doubt somersaults; a scarlet arrow shoots a hole through the abyss where wet surfaces of ocean murmurings dared to ripple; like moonlight over lost intergalactic asteriods